


Medium Roast, Black.

by acatone



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canonical Character Death, Coffee, Fate Episode Spoilers, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, M/M, Moving On, Reminiscing, Somewhat Hopeful Ending, a few bad puns that hopefully no one will notice, a lot of subtle imageries and comparisons, im kidding, medium roast angst, post 000, post wmtsb3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 00:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acatone/pseuds/acatone
Summary: "That first, imperfect cup of coffee. He wondered how that person made something so bitter and terrible that he would actually miss the flavour two thousand years later."(In which Sandalphon saved some of those primordial coffee beans instead of using all of them, and after everything that happened in wmtsb3, he makes himself one last cup)





	Medium Roast, Black.

**Author's Note:**

> somehow i fell out of mxtx hell into gbf hell? huh...  
> as usual: no beta reader because i'm l a z y
> 
> Also if you are wondering how important the title is to the contents of the fic (because I KNOW IT DOESN'T SOUND SAD NOR HOPEFUL), as well as how far my comparison between the brewing process of coffee to sandy's grieving process, go to my twt thread that I linked in the end notes bc I summarized it there. Maybe then you'd see this fic a little differently. And a little more like how I intended.

Sandalphon’s eyes were fixed on the last of those primordial coffee beans. He had saved some for himself, even after giving everyone a cup. He has been using them up slowly, hoping that it would last. Not a single bean went to waste under his careful care, and he had used them sparingly. Still, the numbers dwindled, and he knew that it was unreasonable to ask the crew to help him get some more. He carefully looked at the last handful of the carefully roasted beans and his eyes flickered with hesitation.

The beans were an even, medium brown colour. Not quite the colour of beans you'd see on sale in the markets. There are hairline cracks on it, and its surface lacked the sheen that most other roasted coffee had. They smelled just like how he remembered. Velvety, floral, fruity, with a little hint of sweetness that for some reason, makes his chest ache.

Medium roast,

Black.

That was how he liked his coffee. _This_ coffee. It was not the same as he remembered, and really, perhaps nothing will compare to the first bitter taste these lips tasted some two millennia ago. That first, imperfect cup of coffee. He wondered how _that person_ made something so bitter and terrible that he would actually _miss_ the flavour two thousand years later. Even when _he_ later came up with better blends, and better brewing techniques, and made him better coffee, it was still that (frankly, disgusting) cup of coffee that he missed. He had been experimenting, trying to make both good and bad coffee, but he dared not waste these beans for experiments. Especially not when he’s experimenting on how to make that shitty coffee he had first tasted.

It was not the same as he remembered, but that’s alright.

This was now _his_ coffee. The same beans, with his very own flavour.

He watched as the beans disappear within the grinder, creating a familiar, brown, sand-like powder. The familiar smell clung onto him, remains of the once whole beans. He brewed them carefully, being sure to let it steep for a little longer, hoping that the taste would linger just a moment more. His hands trembled as he poured out the thick, dark liquid onto the cup, but it only filled a little more than half of the cup. Only then did he realize that he was pouring out two cups instead of one.

He froze, staring at the half-filled cup in front of him before gingerly picking it up. The thick, aromatic liquid created warm, gentle waves as he twirled his cup slightly, letting its aroma fill the air around him, engraving it in memory. And then he closed his eyes and lifted the cup to his lips.

The coffee was smooth, full-bodied and velvety. It was also strong, but slid down his throat easily. Still, Sandalphon dared not drink it too quickly. Instead, he sipped slowly, trying to make it last as long as possible. It was very familiar, yet very different. He can feel the primordial energy that he had used, that they both have used, to bring these beans into fruition. A light, pure, familiar yet unfamiliar feeling. He can taste the sandy, slightly ashy flavour, that reminded him of the once fertile grounds where that tree was planted on. He can taste the exotic fruity hints, the floral notes that it leaves on his tongue. He can taste the sour, the bitter, and most importantly, the sweet. One that made his chest ache.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, the dark liquid reflecting his red eyes that no longer held its rage, its image blurry and his mind muddled, the reflection of light from a nearby window leaving a pure white on the dark surface. He thought that he’d seen a mirage of that familiar pale hair within the drink in his hands. But really, it was nothing more than a mirage. The cup parted with his lips, and he tasted salt as he licked his lips. He looked at the cup on his hands and only saw a blurry image of himself, reflected on its surface. His sight cleared for a second, and he saw a drop of clear liquid finding its way into his cup of coffee.

He brought the cup up to his lips again, but he can no longer taste anything but bitterness.

That, and the tears that refused to stop.

The familiar bitterness was on the tip on his tongue, but it was not the coffee. He thought back on how he used to think that this bitterness was something he wanted others to taste, but now he realized that it was not something he wanted _anyone_ to taste. He was a fool, then. But hopefully he's learnt his lesson.

He swallowed the last of that dark brown liquid in the cup and tasted the final, sweet aftertaste it left in his mouth. Like everything, the taste doesn't stay. Both the bitter and the sweet. But that's alright, he tells himself.

 _It's alright_.

He then averted his gaze, and looked at the still full cup that lie waiting on the counter. He looked at it, and suddenly realized that Lucifer had never tasted this cup of coffee, which came from the same tree that grew back then, but was very different. He has never tasted his cup of coffee, never tasted the way he had grown these ones with his own hands and roasted them. ground them, made them. Lucifer had never tasted the way he had roasted it a little lighter, and brewed it a little differently. The very same beans, but with his own flavour. 

Medium roast, 220 degrees heat, just when the beans start to crackle and pop, coming to life. Black, absolutely no milk, but perhaps a spoonful of sugar would be alright. It would only enhance the sweetness that has always been there.

Sandalphon picked up the still full cup of coffee, and wondered if Lucifer would like it. And then he smiled bitterly because it does not matter anymore.

One day he’d brew him this very same cup of coffee, but now, he will give this cup to someone who is still here.

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if there's luwak coffee in gbf universe.......  
> I also wonder what primordial coffee tastes like................
> 
> [there used to be a long rambling about coffee here but I'll just drop in my twitter thread about this fic and the importance of the type of coffee sandy uses in this fic. link--> https://twitter.com/acatone1879/status/1108717866885341185]


End file.
